Justin
I picked Jhondie up the next morning and we headed on over to the place where Spanky might have killed that kid. She was a little distant, but I couldn't blame her. I had pretty much kicked her out of my room last night, and she was probably upset about everything that had happened before that anyways. I knew she just wanted a friend right then, but call me what you will, dumb male always thinking with the wrong part of the anatomy, the facts are that she was very attractive and very vulnerable right then, and I'm a straight male. You show me a guy that could have a beautiful woman in his arms a foot from his bed, and not have thoughts he shouldn't about a friend, and I'll show you a man who knows the difference between rose pink and blush pink.
I would have been all right I think if she hadn't looked at me with that look on her face that even now I can't describe except to say it was a definite offer. Thank God I was raised to be a gentleman. She probably would have done anything to get her mind off of what she had almost done, and I was certainly tempted. It took every bit of will power I had to not get things started. Granted, that would have ruined our friendship, hurt her worse in the morning, and made me feel like a louse, but the little devil that was, ahem, on my shoulder didn't care.
So I made her leave way sooner than she wanted to. I dozed more than slept for the rest of the night. There was no way I could really sleep. I wanted to go after her and apologize, but what was I going to say? Sorry for being rude, but if you stay, we're going to be doing an equipment check. That just wasn't quite right. Maybe if we left it, it would go away. I hoped so.
Jhondie
I knew it wasn't fair to be so cold to Justin, but I wasn't sure how else to avoid what had almost happened last night. I mean if he didn't have that streak of chivalry, I would have ruined everything. I was pressed against him, and when I looked up our faces were mere inches apart. Let's just say, it was very obvious that he was enjoying where he was. And to be honest, had he not let me go and stepped back when he did, I know what would have happened. Maybe if we left it alone, it would go away.
Concentrate on what we needed to do. That was a good way around things. Concentrate. While waiting for everyone to go to bed the night before, I had gotten the information on Spanky's arrest for killing the immigrant's son. There had been some kind of argument, and then Spanky had pulled a gun and shot the kid a few times. The only witness was the kid's father. The D.A. decided that wasn't credible enough since no weapon was found. I guess daddy took care of that too.
The shooting happened near the immigrant's place of business. It was a place to start. It was still early enough that there really wasn't anyone on the streets. We started to go over what had happened, trying to get the steps down and recreate the crime. What were they arguing about? A man suddenly began yelling behind us in Chinese. Mine wasn't perfect, but I could clearly understand him.
"Get out," he yelled. "Have you no respect for the dead? Get out now!"
I turned. He was an Asian man standing in the front door of the closed herb shop. He was wearing a white apron, and shaking his fist threateningly
"Excuse me?" I said in Mandarin. He stopped yelling, and looked a little startled that I knew his language.
"Leave now!" he yelled.
"Sir, we are trying to solve a crime committed here a little over a week ago," I said.
"You are police?" he scoffed. "The police said there was nothing they could do. Now you want to do something?"
"We are not police," I said firmly. Justin was looking confused, but I would translate for him later. "But we have reason to suspect that the person who committed this crime, committed another one three days ago, and we want to stop him."
"Who are you?" he asked suspiciously. I started to suspect who he was.
"Are you Mr. Lee?" I asked, remembering the father's name from the police reports. He didn't respond immediately.
"My associate is a journalist," I said. "And I just want to find the person that killed my father."
His face hardened. I hoped I hit the right button on him. He paused, and then motioned us to follow him into the shop.
Most of the conversation was slow because I had to double-speak it. Mr. Lee, who I soon found out was really Dr. Lee, seemed a little amused by my translations, but he was kind enough to speak clearly so that I would understand everything. I told him that my father was the doctor that was killed a few days before. He had heard about that, and sympathized, and said that it made sense.
There weren't nearly as many immigrants now as there were before the Pulse. Why leave one third-world country for another one where you can't speak the language? Where Martial Law had been declared, most people in the Communist countries had more freedoms. LA wasn't quite so bad, but it was still pretty messed up. I asked him a few questions about why Spanky was fighting with his son, and he began to explain.
"My son was a good boy," he said. "He made a terrible mistake when he was younger and started to get involved with a gang in China. But they wanted him to kill, and he refused. He tried to leave the gang, but they wouldn't let him. No one would help him. We moved to a different city, but there was a branch there trying to make him come back. My son respected his family too much to be what they wanted. So, we left China and came here to live."
He sighed bitterly. "I do not speak English. I am a doctor, but cannot practice here. But I was willing to do anything to keep my only son safe. I opened this shop. My daughter's English is good enough for the customers that come here. We were fine until about three months ago."
"My son had a tattoo from his gang in China. We did not have the money to have it removed. And one day, someone saw it, and started harassing him. There was a gang here that claimed kinship to the one in China. They wanted him to join with them. He refused. He refused many times, and was in several fights. They finally started to leave him alone."
"Who was the gang here?" I asked.
"They call themselves the Night Posse," he answered, stumbling a little over the English words. Things started to fall into place for me. "Then a week ago I see my son with a boy from a different gang. They were arguing, fighting in the alley behind the shop. I do not know what they were saying, but the boy tried to hit my son." Mr. Lee smiled harshly. "My son knows martial arts. He did not injure the boy, but threw him on the ground like he would if a girl had attacked him."
He paused, and I understood how hard it was for him to relive that moment. I took out the picture of Spanky that Dink had printed for us. "This is the person that shot him?" I asked softly.
He looked at it angrily. "No!" he snapped. "I told the police that, but they did not believe me. I told them that this is the boy he argued with but it was the other one that shot my son!"
"The other one?" I asked, incredulously. I realized that I had spoken in English when Justin looked at me sharply. I repeated myself in Chinese.
"The boy had a friend with him," he said. "There was another young man, maybe in his early twenties. He said something to the boy on the ground, and then pulled out a gun and shot my son." He saw the shock on my face. "You do not believe me either?"
"I believe you," I said. "There was no mention of another person anywhere in the police report," I continued. "It surprised me." Spanky didn't kill the kid. Maybe he didn't kill Dad either. I almost took him out, and he might not have done anything. It took a great deal of self-control to keep from screaming at myself for being so stupid.
"Was there anyone else around?" Justin asked. I repeated the question to Mr. Lee. The police report didn't say anything about a possible witness, but it obviously had omitted a great deal.
"There was a girl on the other side of the fence," he said. He rose and motioned me to follow. We went to the second story and went into what appeared to be his office. We looked out the window into the alley. It appeared that there was once a wood fence separating the alley, but half of it had been torn down. "She was a girl from the gang that kept trying to recruit my son. She had come to my son, and was going to leave when the fight started. She hid behind the fence, and when…when it was over she ran away."
"Did you tell the police?" I asked.
"No," he replied. "I knew the police would give me no justice. Now I must hope that this street gang will somehow correct the wrong that has been done." He sounded so sad. It hurts to lose your faith. That was something I understood.
"They won't have to," I said firmly. "I'm going to find out what happened. Then we'll all have justice."